


Couch Cushions

by ceirdwenfc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic, fan fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceirdwenfc/pseuds/ceirdwenfc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Found in the couch cushions</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couch Cushions

**Author's Note:**

> (Note: This is a little goofy, and they got progressively longer, but I think I kind of like it. The prompt was for another writing assignment for a monthly workshop I take: found in the couch cushion. These guys would not leave me alone. And I literally mean guys; none of the Spn women bothered me like these guys bothered the fuck out of me for the last two days. I'm happy it's finally over. Enjoy.)

**Dean**

Dean sleeps on the sofa, flat on his back, arms folded across his chest. He breathes lightly, and wakes at the slightest noise, which makes rain and breeze a bitch to sleep in.

If he has a beer right before bed, he will stuff the bottle into the sofa, held against the back with the couch cushion. He's only spilled once, and that was the thunder's fault.

Bobby's sofa is one of those old ones from the late 70s and it's scratchy on his bare skin. When he wakes up, all of his change has slipped out of his pockets underneath the cushions.

When they were younger, he'd 'forget' about it and let Sam 'find' it for a treat at the candy store.

 

**Sam**

Sam is a tosser and a turner, mainly because his six foot five frame won't fit, so he starts out on his back with his legs over the side at his knees. His neck is cricked and pressed up against the other side. This lasts for about half an hour before he turns on one side, flopping an arm over his head. And then back again with one foot resting on the floor.

A button has fallen off of his jacket and that slides between the cushions and the lottery ticket from last Sunday. When he was a kid, he found so much of Dean's change that he never leaves the sofa until he's scoured every inch of it for loose change.

 

**Bobby**

Bobby's more likely to fall asleep in the chair with his head on the desk, his arm curved pillow like around his head, his hand softly resting, ready, on his gun. He's only had to use it once and that was the misfortune of that door to door salesman who couldn't read the 'No solicitations' sign and Bobby only felt slightly bad about.

That had been the first visit by the new Sheriff. They would grow on each other.

Not really.

 

**Castiel**

Castiel carried no money, no change, no buttons fell off of his coat or they magically reappeared in the morning. His tie was twisted around more than usual and his coat and trousers were line covered and wrinkly for only a few minutes before they looked dry cleaned in an instant.

On one or two occasions, Bobby found a feather or three that had been plucked loose in the night, and he added those to his pantry.

 

**Balthazar**

Even thinking about Balthazar's sofa makes me want to get a tetanus shot. I might come back to him if I'm braver.

 

**Crowley**

Crowley doesn't sleep on his sofa. Not ever.

However, down underneath the leather cushions are a handful of expensive buttons, a couple of straight pins that his tailor left behind and Hell Hound hair, invisible of course.

There is a cleaning demon who comes in once a week to clear it all up, but Crowley is such a cheap bastard, she leaves it all on his desk, organized by item (except the hound hair). The last demon that cleaned his house is in a special cage in Hell after he stole some loose change from down there. Lucifer has a better chance of getting out than this poor sod.

 

**Gabriel**

Gabriel never sits on his own sofa, but he enjoys when others do. Depending on which cushion, there are springs that poke, springs that sink, whoopee cushions, hot water bottles. There is change, but it's of no use now. There's a key, but you don't want to know what that goes to.

Tempting, isn't it, his face seems to say, but if you've known him long enough you know better than to accept the challenge.

 

**Lucifer**

Lucifer is a fuss budget. It's really hard to believe that the Angel known as Satan, the devil, the evil one is really slightly OCD about his things. He rarely lies on his couch, but when he does, inevitably, things fall out of his vessel's pockets – change, a dollar here or there, that ring he took off that pretty girl's body, a feather, after all he still has them, hidden that they are, and in the morning before the cushions can get vacuumed, he needs to empty out underneath them.

They sit in a straight pile as he gathers the items and puts them back into his pockets. He vacuums all of that space, and then replaces the cushions one by one after they are individually vacuumed. After he puts the vacuum away, he hand brushes the tops of the cushions to remove any lint. If this takes too long, he wraps a piece of duct tape around his palm and pats the cushions down until they are clean.

He spends most of the day in the plain wooden chair at the desk and when someone comes to see him and sit on his couch, he side-eyes them.

They think it's just the way the Devil treats everyone, but it's only the ones who sit on his couch.

 

**Adam Milligan**

He had a nice childhood growing up, despite not meeting his father until he was twelve, but after that it was nice when he was there. It wasn't so bad, and when Dad was there, he was truly there – special late nights learning poker, going to baseball games. Sometimes, they felt like a real family.

Every time John left though, he'd explore under the seat cushions. It was where they watched television, where Mom and Dad would sit and talk when he was finally sent to bed, and this is where Adam found his most special treasures.

The coins, not your usual change, but from as far away as Mexico. A well-used pocket knife. A matchbook from a bar in Wyoming. A pen from a Howard Johnson's. Not much more than that.


End file.
